Goodbye
by LaurielS
Summary: During a meeting with a group of men, an attack was attempted on Elrond, but Erestor intervened in time, receiving a wound that is unfortunately life threatening. Elrond tries to save him…but time is growing short. Rated K plus for description of injuries (nothing too gory, though). One-shot. Please read and review :)


**Goodbye**

A/N: My first angst story! I have been reading a lot of angst and felt it needed to go somewhere. I have written another one but it is in the process of being checked and developed, so it will not be up yet. I hope this one is good! Oh, and it would be great if someone could suggest another more appropriate title for me—I seem to feel that this title is not really very appropriate...

Anyway, here's the story (after the disclaimer):

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything, just my own ideas.

**Goodbye**

Elrond stared listlessly at the unconscious form of his chief advisor in the healing bed. He had done all he could, yet his condition did not seem to be improving. The shards of the small knife that had struck the ribs so close to the heart that Elrond had thought his friend was lost forever had already been extracted, but poison still raged in his system. Some poison which this time, they really had no antidote to. Not even the slightest idea as to what the antidote might be.

He should have listened when his advisor warned him of the possible danger these men brought. Yet he had waved his friend's warning off as being overly sensitive, and as a show of friendship, had sat right next to the leader of the men. He had hoped that this arrangement would move those men into joining them, but he was wrong. Despite all the usual precautions they had taken, the leader had managed to slip a small poisoned knife into the room and attacked them in the middle of the council—an attack which would have surely meant the end of his life had Erestor not intervened in time. Erestor, being slightly shorter, had not been struck at the heart. But it was still close enough.

If Erestor died, he would never forgive those men. And he would never forgive himself.

The bandages slung across the elf's torso were quickly soaked in blood, and for the tenth time this day, he changed the bandages, using those which had been soaked earlier in a mixture of strong healing herbs. As he slowly took off the bandages, he saw at once that the wound had not yet closed, nor was there any sign of closing. Elrond noted that the blood flow, however, had diminished, but was not sure if he should be glad about it. It seemed like the blood flow was only lessening because the elf lying there had not much blood left in his system.

"Hold on, my friend," Elrond said softly as he finished the last knot, securing the bandages in place. Once done, he turned and walked to a table nearby where a group of the most talented healers were combining herbs to come up with a possible antidote. Elrond looked at the list of combinations that had been tried, and too started to work. Yet half his mind was not there.

The poison had seeped through the body and was now circulating in the bloodstream. Elrond, master healer though he was, had no idea how long it would be before his friend entered Mandos' halls, but he knew it would not be long. He had observed that his friend's breathing and heart beat had become irregular as night approached, a sure sign that the poison was already working its way to the vital organs. Possibly the only things that made Erestor hang on till now was his stubbornness, his attachment to Rivendell and, Elrond hoped, his 'family' at the Last Homely House.

_Erestor, mellon nin, please… _

If crying could help, he would gladly shed a thousand tears. Yet it could not, and the only way he would be able to save him would be through his healing skills. Elrond tried to concentrate on the herbs in front of him but to no avail. No matter how much he tried, he was constantly reminded of all the times he had shared with Erestor and Glorfindel, brothers in all but blood, and those thoughts never failed to draw tears to his eyes. He had told himself, over and over again, that he had to concentrate on finding the cure. Yet he could not. Not when his friend lay there, so close to death.

"My…my lord…"

Elrond's head snapped up and turned to look at the healer who called him. His heart rose as he thought that the healer had found a cure, yet as he followed the healer's gaze to the bed, his blood froze.

Erestor, with all his stubbornness and strong sense of responsibility, had somehow managed to wake up with all the poison raging on in his body.

Elrond literally ran to the bed and eased Erestor down. He felt his heart tear a little as he saw his advisor's features tighten in his effort to prop himself up and from trying to restrain himself to cry out as pain flared through his body.

"Erestor, please, you need to lie down…"

"M-My lord… you are w-well…" stammered Erestor tiredly, promptly ignoring all that Elrond was advising.

"No small thanks to you, my friend…" replied Elrond, trying his hardest to smile, but failing.

Erestor gave a small wave and coughed weakly, and to Elrond's horror, blood began to trickle down his advisor's lips. The poison had started to destroy the lungs, and Elrond could hear mild gurgling at the chest which signified that the lungs were filling up with fluid—and that his friend was one more step closer to the Halls. Resisting the urge for tears to fall, Elrond quickly wiped away the blood stains and clasped his advisor's hand tightly as it reached out for his.

"My lord, if I die—"

"Nay, Erestor, do not talk of death—"

"My lord, please listen," Erestor insisted, seemingly, _seemingly gasping for breath. _Yet he forced himself to continue, with gasps of breath in between, "If I die, promise me that you will take good care of Rivendell and its people—" he shuddered a little as the poison attacked once more, "—and yourself…"

_Why do you always think of others? Why do you think of them, when you are already on the brink of death?_

"This is all my fault, Erestor…"

"No, my lord, please… if anyone is to blame, it is the thing that is poisoning those Men's minds…" Erestor's voice trailed off, eyes starting to glaze over. Then he collected himself and, with barely any strength, turned to Elrond again, asking him to promise that he would not let Rivendell down in his absence.

Elrond did not want to promise at first, hoping, admittedly selfishly, that this would force Erestor to stay. Yet as he looked at Erestor's hopeful but desperate eyes, he could not bring himself to lie to him. And so he promised, amidst tears that now trailed down his face, tears that he could not hide anymore.

Erestor looked at him and smiled. Elrond had promised. He was satisfied.

His eyes started to close and his breathing gradually grew shallower.

He was ready to leave.

The master of Imladris, however, was not ready to let him leave.

"No, no, mellon nin, please do not sleep! Please!"

"Tired…" whispered Erestor so softly that Elrond strained his ears to hear him. As Erestor's grip gradually slackened in his, Elrond clang onto his friend even tighter, afraid that once he let go, Erestor would too be gone, like a fallen leaf in the wind.

Just as how he had let Elros go.

"Thank you for accepting me as your family… Elrond…" those were the last words his advisor had said as he laid back, eyes finally closed, on the healing bed, a small but truly happy smile on his face. Elrond took his friend's hand, refusing to let go even as the hand started to grow cold, as if his very presence would make his friend stay no matter what. He had lost so much that he wished never to lose any more again, yet why did this small wish never seem to be fulfilled?

_Why does this always happen to me? Why? Why me?_

But he found no answers. And there it was that Elrond let his tears flow freely, dignity forgotten, amidst the loud clanking of bowls at the table, and the weakened breathing of his friend that was barely, just barely, present.

**-The End-**


End file.
